Seismic Crimes, page 5
At the sink, with a towel tied around his waist, he took the time to shave, brush his teeth, and rinse his mouth with mouthwash to get rid of the taste of raw vomit. He sprayed cologne, inhaled deeply. When he was dry and dressed in fresh clothes, he felt cleaner. But he wasn’t done yet. He picked up the trashcan, carried it into the kitchen, and dumped his clothes into a large trash bag that he knotted twice. He didn’t want the clothes in his apartment, not even in a trash bag, so he walked barefoot to the Dumpster behind the complex and tossed the bag inside.
Back in his apartment, he leaned against the door, suddenly exhausted. Beth stood a few paces back. He could tell she wanted to approach, but she didn’t know if he wanted her to or not. Her concern and desire not to intrude speared him in the middle of his chest. He gestured with a nod of his head. “Come here.”
She immediately went to him, wrapping her arms around him. Lowering his head, he inhaled the scent of her hair. Although it smelled like his own shampoo, he liked it. And yet the horrible memory of the smell of his brother’s body came back to him. He buried his nose into her neck, seeking her soapy fragrance.
Beth’s hands stroked his arms a moment before she leaned back in his embrace and stared up into his face. His gaze traced the arch of her brows, the almond-shape of her brown eyes, and the curve of her wide lips.
“I’m going to lie down,” he said.
“Do you want anything?”
He gently kissed her. “Just that.” In his bedroom, he stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. Forcing himself to imagine Beth’s face, he sank into a fitful sleep haunted by his brother’s voice. I trust you with my life, Don.
He woke to the aroma of tomato, basil, and garlic, and found Beth in the kitchen wearing one of his black shirts with a belt around her hips. The shirt fell to the tops of her thighs. Despite what he had gone through today, a smile manifested on his face.
“What are you cooking?”
Beth twirled on her bare feet. “Lasagna. I walked across the street to the grocery store to get the ingredients I needed and used the money you left for pizza. There’s also garlic bread.” She paused. “I wanted to do something nice for you. After everything we’ve been through, and all the peanut butter sandwiches we consumed at the police department, I figured we deserved a good, home-cooked meal.”
He smiled. To some, a meal might be a small thing, but to him, it was a big gesture. “It smells great.” He peered down at her body. “And I can see you raided my closet.”
“I don’t have any clothes here, so I created a makeshift dress out of your shirt and belt. Do you like it?”
Donovan pulled her to him and devoured her lips. Beth reacted instantly, grabbing his shoulders and moaning. He hadn’t meant to get carried away, but feeling her reaction to him exploded whatever control he possessed. Needs clawed at his chest, cravings becoming unbearable. He cupped the back of her head, and his fingers tangled with her maple locks as he deepened the kiss. He doubted the lasagna, as great as it smelled, would taste better than the flavors in her mouth—sweet and strong, hot and addicting.
Donovan pulled back a fraction. “That’s how much I like it,” he said between her parted lips.
Beth stared up at him. Her eyes glistened.
He took her mouth again in a heavy kiss that was all tongue and moans. His hands grabbed her butt and lifted her so she was on tiptoe. Their bodies banged together. The contact electrifying.
Beth suddenly pushed him back a step. His hands released her and she dropped back onto her heels. “All right, all right, all right,” she said and closed her eyes. “Pheromones are high right now. I would love nothing more than to indulge in you, but the lasagna won’t be good if it cools.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m starving.”
“Sit at the table. I’m going into the kitchen to compose myself. I’ll bring out the food in a minute.” Beth hurried away as if she wanted to escape the pull of his desire.
Smirking, he sat at the table she had set with paper napkins and the emergency candles he had in his hurricane supplies.
She came back with two plates heaped with steaming squares of lasagna. She put one in front of him and pushed the garlic bread toward him.
“I haven’t had a dinner like this since my mom’s last visit.”
“Well it won’t happen all the time, so don’t get used to it. The next dinner I make for you might be soup from a can.” Beth picked up her wine glass. “How about a toast?”
Donovan picked up his glass and examined the bright, red liquid swimming inside it. “Is this wine?”
“No, I didn’t have enough for wine. I made do with cherry Kool-Aid.”
He grinned. “What are we toasting?”
“How about to disasters that bring people together?”
Donovan’s grin widened. “To disasters,” he repeated.
Their glasses clinked.
Chapter Seven
Donovan’s mom and grandma arrived the morning of Ryan’s funeral. They wore their black dresses and pantyhose on the flight. Their eyes were red and puffy when Beth and Donovan found them at baggage claim. The second Donovan’s mom spotted him she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. She was a petite woman with her head coming to rest against his chest. She buried her face in his shirt as she cried fresh tears. His grandmother shuffled toward them, a hanky pressed to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.
From a couple of steps back, Beth could hear Donovan whispering to his mom. “It’s okay, it’s okay. He’d hate to know you’re crying. He never liked to see you sad.”
“I’m not supposed to bury one of my sons. You’re supposed to bury me,” she sobbed.
“Hush, now.” Donovan drew her away and framed her face with his hands. “We’re going to get through this together. And we’re going to live safely and happily, because that’s what Ryan would want us to do.” He pulled his grandmother into a hug.
“Ryan’s with your grandfather now,” the older woman said with a tearful voice. “Your grandfather will take care of him.”
Donovan’s mom nodded in agreement, sniffed, and wiped her nose with a tissue. Her eyes drifted to Beth then. “Oh, is this—”
Donovan shifted and held out his hand to Beth while keeping his other arm around his mom’s delicate waist. Beth joined him. Meeting a boyfriend’s mother was always hard. She wanted to impress and was constantly afraid she’d fail. “Beth, this is my mom, Meredith and my grandma, Lily. Mom, this is Beth Kennedy, the woman who saved my life…twice.”
Beth hit him playfully in the side. She was about to say she did no such thing when Meredith launched herself forward. Beth had to grab her and return the embrace or she would’ve ended up flat on her back.
“I could be burying two sons if it weren’t for you!”
Beth looked at Donovan over Meredith’s head as she rubbed the woman’s back. She didn’t know what to say. All she could offer Meredith was the comfort of human touch.
The four of them went back to the apartment so Donovan and Beth could change. Beth slipped into a simple black skirt and blouse and came out of the bathroom to find Donovan fooling with a purple tie. She put her hand on his arm, took the tie, and began to work it into a knot. His eyes were more prominent with the tie accentuating their color. She gazed into them and brushed a lock of brown hair off his forehead with her fingers. “Are you okay?”
Donovan nodded and then surprised Beth by picking up her hand and planting a kiss in the center of her palm. Linking his fingers with hers, as if he didn’t want his kiss to fly away, he led her out of the room. They held hands during the entire drive to the church and sat beside each other in the front pew with Meredith and Lily on the other side of him.
The service was honorable and simple. Flowers didn’t clog every nook. Bows didn’t choke every pew. At the front of the church, with a backdrop of stunning stained glass windows, was a platinum casket. A large photo of Ryan in his dress uniform stood on the raised platform next to a wreath of white lilies and a few white candles.
When it was time for people to pay their respects, Meredith stood and walked to Ryan’s casket. The church fell silent, as if angels cupped everyone’s mouths. No one sniffled, no one coughed, so when Meredith collapsed onto her knees and let out a wail loud enough to reach the heavens, it shook the very air.
Tears clogged Beth’s eyes and throat. Her hand flexed on Donovan’s a fraction of a second before she released it. He stood. Everyone watched as he went to his mom, scooped her into his arms, and carried her outside, into the healing sunlight. Beth’s heart bled for them.
At the end of the service, she took Lily’s arm and walked with her behind the pallbearers. Questioning eyes warmed her back. Many women whispered to each other behind their hands, their eyes on her. As she passed two of them, she heard, “Who do you think she is?”
“I think she’s with Donovan.”
“No way! I wonder how she made that happen.”
Beth kept her chin up and pretended not to hear them, but inside, she felt a mixture of pride, for being Donovan’s woman, and disgust at the rumors that would no doubt circulate from the mouths of the women. At a funeral, no less.
The sun was bright at the graveyard. A beam of light kept ricocheting off the metal casket and landing in Beth’s eyes, but she was able to see Donovan, Meredith, and Lily each toss in a handful of dirt. The sound of the Honor Guard firing gunshots rang in her ears, making her jump. Even when the firing stopped, the bangs echoed solemnly in her head, reminding her of Donovan’s loss.
They went to dinner afterward. Beth tried to eat, but seeing the grief of the other two women tightened her throat so she couldn’t swallow a bite. The next morning, Meredith and Lily left to return to Michigan. Beth was sorry they didn’t have longer to get to know each other beyond the introductions at the airport, the tears at Ryan’s funeral, and the silence during dinner. But something she didn’t expect happened when they said their goodbyes. Meredith embraced her and whispered in her ear, “I can see the difference you’ve had on my son. I’m happy he’s found you.”
Meredith’s words stunned her. All she could do was nod. Donovan didn’t seem different from when they’d met a few short weeks ago, which made Beth wonder what he had been like to make his mom think she’d made a difference.
****
In Donovan’s apartment, in his soft bed, Beth lay in the crook of his body with the morning sun warming her skin. For the past several minutes, she had been debating how to approach the subject of going to her house to cleanup and inspect the damage. With the flood waters down and Ryan laid to rest, she felt it was the best time to get this task done. She took a slow breath, let it out, and ended the peaceful quiet with her question, “Can you drive me to my house today?”
When Donovan didn’t answer right away, she continued, “I should try to save what little isn’t ruined and I think it’s time I get some clothes. I can’t keep wearing your shirts.”
“I like you in my shirts.”
She smiled. “I bet you do.”
“We can get a moving truck for whatever furniture isn’t damaged, and we can box up everything else.”
“That’ll help a lot. Thank you.”
Donovan enlisted a couple of his monster truck buddies for some extra muscle. He bribed them with a six pack of beer—each. Beth contributed with the promise of pizza when the job was done. His friends readily agreed.
At Beth’s house, Donovan pulled his pick-up truck behind two other equally large trucks.
Their apparent love for big vehicles made her smile. She hopped out of Donovan’s truck to meet two tough-looking men. One had sleeve tattoos on both of his arms and hair shaved into a short Mohawk. The other had a bald head and a thick beard.
“Hey, I’m Smith.” The man with the tattoos held out his hand.
The gentlemanly gesture touched Beth. She clasped his hand, returned the shake.
“I’m Beth.”
“I know, and Donovan is one lucky son-of-a-bitch.” Smith turned to the other man. “Can you believe he crashed in front of her house?”
“Bastard couldn’t be luckier.” He smiled beneath his beard. “I’m Gordon.”
Beth chuckled, liking them already. “Thank you both for coming out to do this on your Sunday.”
“We’ll do anything for beer and food,” Smith said with a big smile.
While Donovan, Smith, and Gordon took out their equipment, Beth studied her house. The last time she saw it, it had been on its own island with rainwater lapping precariously close to the front door. After the ground had a chance to suck down the water, and the sun’s rays beat down on it, evaporating the wet particles, the level dissipated, revealing a lawn of dead grass.
Across the street, Donovan’s car was crammed into her neighbor’s tree. I guess no one called to have it removed. She walked toward the car and trailed her hand along the trunk. At the rear door, she peeked through the empty square to see the brick she’d used to smash the window resting on the far seat. Her raincoat was still spread over the seat where she’d left it; a piece of glass poked through the yellow plastic. Thankfully, it hadn’t cut her. A cut like that would’ve made survival next to impossible on top of everything else she’d had to deal with at the time.
Mosquitoes swarmed inside the car, attracted to the foot of murky water at the bottom. The hum of their music beat against her eardrums.
She moved to the driver’s door and bent down to peer through the window. For a moment, she saw Donovan sitting there, his body hunched over the steering wheel. She nearly lifted her hands to bang on the window as she had done before, but she heard his voice behind her and knew the vision wasn’t real. When she blinked, her eyelids swiped the vision away like windshield wipers. Movement caught her attention. Cupping her hands against the glass, she saw ripples dance along the water’s surface. She squinted to see better and vaulted backward when something leapt out of the water, somersaulted in the air, and landed with a splash. A catfish had made Donovan’s car into a swimming pool. She couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of her mouth.
Donovan came up beside her. “What’s so funny?”
Beth pointed. “You have a catfish in your car.”
Donovan bent down to have a look for himself. “So I do.”
“How do you think he got in there? The water didn’t get high enough for it to go through the back window.”
“The wind was strong. He could’ve slid inside with a small wave.”
“I suppose. Do you have a bucket? We could get him out and transport him to a pond or something.”
“Smith,” he shouted. “Get the bucket out of the back of my truck.”
Donovan stood ready with the bucket when Beth opened the driver’s door. The water rushed out, and the catfish slid over the doorjamb and into the bucket. She peered inside and smiled. “There you go, fella.”
Donovan snapped the lid into place and smiled at her. “I never thought I’d find a woman with compassion for catfish.” He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re one-of-a-kind, Beth Kennedy.”
Beth smiled back. “So are you.” She glanced at his car. “I think we should call a tow truck.”
“Oh, I still might be able to drive it.”
“Sure, into another tree.”
“Careful, or I’ll spank you in front of my friends.”
She arched a brow. “I’d like to see you try.”
Turning to her house, Beth’s smile faded. Hurricane Sabrina had destroyed the home where she had grown up, the house her parents had left her in their will. The fence she had helped her father build—and by build, she helped hammer nails into place—lay on its side, flattened by the deadly winds of a super storm. The garage door was like a wad of crumpled paper. A fallen pine tree stretched across the lawn, blocking the front door.
She trudged around the back. The patio—where she and her mom would sit in the evening to talk and watch the sunset—was plastered into the side of the neighbor’s house. The sliding glass door was shattered. She stepped over the glass shards and into her home. Except it no longer resembled any home she knew. A giant hole stretched from the dining room to the living room. Musty leaves covered the dining room table and floor. Roof shingles that had fallen through the hole in the roof now resided in the kitchen. Insulation stuck to the tops of furniture like pink mold, and mildew covered the couch. The cards they had been playing poker with were stuck to the floor, faded and withered. The jellybeans they’d used to place bets were melted globs.
Beth felt Donovan behind her. She spoke without turning. “At this table, I would carve pumpkins, decorate Christmas cookies, and dye Easter eggs with my parents.”
“The table looks to be in decent shape.” Donovan knocked on the wood with his knuckle. “It just needs to be sanded and varnished.”
She faced him with despair weighing her down. “That’s not what I meant.” She lifted her hands with her palms pointed to the ceiling. “A year after my studio opened, my mom passed away and…” Her voice caught. “And then my dad. They left me the house and the bit of money they had. I grew up here and now the place I always called home will never be my home again. There’s too much damage with the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Too much that can’t be repaired. I’d have to start from scratch, and I can’t do that.” Her shoulders dropped.
With a sigh, she brushed past him and went into her bedroom to pack. What she found waiting for her made her yelp. Hundreds of hungry ants crawled over the poisonous snake Donovan had killed. A long line of them extended away from the snake, up the wall, and to the corner of the window. They carried away scales and chunks of snake meat. Beth spun away with her hand over her mouth as she gagged.
After seeing the problem, Donovan left and came back with a bath towel. “Can I?”
“Please!”
Donovan moved around her. A second later, he told her it was okay to look.
She did so cautiously. Donovan had draped the floor with the towel, hiding the revolting site of the ants picking apart the rotting snake, but she could still see the wavy shape of it. If she looked close enough, she could still see the ants moving.
